


Phil has heard heart-wrenching cries before.

by pastel_garbage



Series: MCYT one-shots [6]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Not Beta Read, Vent?, We die like Wilbur, anyways festivals am I right chat?, im sad., kinda turns out being ranboo centric but also philza, this made me cry many times lol, vent!!, vent.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:34:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29049984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastel_garbage/pseuds/pastel_garbage
Summary: Phil has lived a decent life. With the twists and turns of being a father of three (practically five), he's experienced plenty of things.This is a recounting of the worst times.(Very far from canon,, lol)
Relationships: ALL PLATONIC, Ranboo & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & Phil Watson, TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & Phil Watson, or familial - Relationship
Series: MCYT one-shots [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2034424
Kudos: 116
Collections: Completed stories I've read





	Phil has heard heart-wrenching cries before.

**Author's Note:**

> EYo-
> 
> I meant to post this waaaaaaaay before but uh. I forgot and also refused to proofread it out of spite for how angsty it is.  
> So,, sorry! Hope you enjoy anyways :)

Phil has heard heart-wrenching cries before.

Much to his everlasting despair, all of his sons have experienced that kind of pain- and he through them- but he still knows first-hand the anguish and despair that comes with that kind of scream.

  
  


Technoblade would have those screams when he was young and woke up from a particularly terrible nightmare, babbling about his former parent’s untimely demise and crying for hours. He’d scream until he could only whimper hoarsely sometimes, Phil on the brink of tears as he desperately tried to help his eldest son, knowing Wilbur was standing in the doorway, exhausted but concerned more for his twin.

  
  


And when Wilbur first realized Sally was gone and that he’d have to raise Fundy alone, he practically collapsed in Phil’s arms, a scream tearing from him as he came undone and just cried for the first time in ages, babbling about how it was unfair and it was so hard to imagine how he’d manage without her. And when Techno ran to see what was wrong Phil could only tell him to _please_ take Fundy for a walk to the playground while trying his best to comfort the brunette in his arms, a sad and desperate look in his eyes.

That hadn’t been the only time- Wilbur had been trying so hard for so long to keep up appearances when he was president that one day he just broke down and cried in the forest, wishing for his family’s presence and not even getting his younger brother’s- the blonde was far away in the ravine they now had to call home, deaf to his brother emotional agony by distance and likely too busy annoying the eldest of the three brothers whilst he farmed.

  
  


He supposed what was nearly as bad as his own ‘incident’ was when Tommy had screamed. Maybe because he couldn’t even be there for him... or maybe because he understood. The boy had never been one to cry or lose hope, but the day Tubbo lost a life in the festival he had screamed out so clearly, ruining his voice for days and crying for far too long. (Not that anyone would tell him such- they understood he and Tubbo had a close bond no one else could possibly hope to understand or relate to.) The only one who could help was Tubbo himself- no matter how hard anyone tried to help the sobbing and shrieking blonde, Tubbo was the only one to ease the cries. He’d ran as quickly as he could to find Tommy, ignoring his striking pain from the respawn to find out why the last thing he’d heard before the ringing was a heart-shattering scream and had to ease his away from the others- all of which he’d pushed away in a fit of sad anger.

Now Tubbo, he wasn’t Phil’s son but he was close enough- and it still broke him when he could hear the boy bawling from his own house in L’Manburg. With Tommy having been freshly exiled that very day, it turned out that the brunette knew no decent way of keeping calm without his best friend, having relied on him emotionally to not reach this point before. It hurt, and when Phil finally made his way to him he clung to him for hours, sobbing and whimpering as he wished for better times with his whole being. Phil could only pet his hair and hold him close, rocking them slowly while whispering words of comfort. He wouldn’t willingly admit it- but he had thoroughly cursed out Dream and the trouble he had ever caused his family that night.

  
  


But before that, he’d experienced the aching pain. He was so much more receptive and understanding with Tubbo because he’d felt that kind of anguish when he had to kill his own son.

Wilbur had insisted, pleading that Phil kill him on the blonde’s first day on the SMP.

“Phil, Phil, kill me. Kill me right now, they all want you to!” Wilbur had grinned, the tears in his eyes giving away how scared and desperate he was. If Phil didn’t kill him now, they surely would heartlessly execute him later, his mind whispered.

“You’re my son!” Phil cried, wide eyes looking at the diamond sword his son was pushing into his hands as he tried to refuse the smaller part of him that understood where Wilbur was coming from.

“Do it. Please.” Wilbur nearly stuttered over the words, pushing the handle into his father’s hands, his own two bleeding from where he held the blade, giving Phil no choice but to just take the cursed thing.

So he finally gave him, taking exactly two hits to get Wilbur to collapse. He quickly dropped the sword, faintly hearing it clatter to the ground as he dropped to his knees beside his boy and began to cry.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispered brokenly, this time being the one held as his son bleed out.

“It’s okay dad. I love you.” He hummed sincerely, seeming happy of all things, and simply beamed warmly as Phil sobbed and said _I love you too_ over and over. The quickly fading man gently ran a shaking hand through the other’s long strands of blonde hair, letting his father cry into his shoulder as his own tears dried and he hummed a tune from his childhood.

It only made the older man cry more, trembling violently as his arms gripped tightly around his son as if it’d make him stay just a little longer.

  
  


So when Wilbur finally went quiet and still, body already beginning to turn cold, Phil let out a loud, agonizing wail, hands desperately grabbing at the fabric of his tattered, brown trenchcoat. He was wailing out a choked “He was just holding me- please!” begging for his return as he leaned over his boy’s limp body- now crumbled and still bleeding on the stone floor. It seemed to register he truly was dead and he scrambled away from the body to bump on the wall. Phil hugged himself, hot tears streaming down his face as cries of anguish bubbled from his throat.

He could only stare at the body of what once was a breathing, smiling, and loving man- his son- and just cried and screamed. There was no way to bring him back now, but he wished and prayed to whatever God would listen that he could hold him again- even just once more. Only one more time to talk to him and tell him he loved him again and he’d be happy. Surely he would. If he’d been prepared it would have been okay and he’d have been ready.

But in reality, he knew a child was meant to live on after their parent, happy and healthy even when the ones who raised them are gone. There was no way to be prepared for this.

This was a burden that no parent should live through- but one that he brought himself by his child’s own begged wish.

And it hurt. It still hurts. He’s just quiet now. He’s finally quiet. They had to drag him away, a desperate but weakened arm trying to fight to reach out to the cold corpse as his wings sporadically flared, failing to help him reach and just smacking whoever’s leg that was dragging him.

  
  


When they took his wings it wasn’t as bad. Nothing could have compared. He’d have rather had that kind of agony and physical pain that he could pinpoint and blame on someone else and feel it ten times over rather than ever experience the emotional trauma of his own son dying to his permanently shaking hands.

When Dream took his wings he didn’t give him any potions or medicines to numb the pain- nothing- just told him what was happening, forced him onto a chair, and went at it. He ripped at them and cut them with a dull blade, the only precaution being a good cleaning before and after. He even wrapped it up and took him home when it’d been done. After that he didn’t get out of bed for days on end, laying on his side or his stomach and weeping- both at the physical loss and the emotional loss. He was a caged bird now.

It had only even been a day since he joined and he had tried so hard to escape the man, but he was already weakened from his mourning that he just finally gave in and landed on the ground, holding out his wrists to let Dream drag him away to take the last ounce of comfort and freedom he really had.

  
  


That’s why he understood. When Ranboo was ever so excited for the festival he couldn’t help but smile to hide his worries. 

Festivals never go well here.

This wouldn’t be different.

When the day came, Phil lingered around L’Manburg, staying just out of sight unless Ranboo was alone, in which he’d give a little smile and wave, stepping out from the shadows to show how proud he was. No, he wasn’t his son, but he may as well have been at that point, and he was just as proud as any father should be when he saw how extravagant the hybrid had made the festival and its games.

He almost had been sure that he could leave at one point, watching Ranboo grin and laugh while helping others with a trident game he’d set up. 

It was heart-warming to know that he’d been wrong. Tubbo was much kinder and sympathetic than Schlatt, of course, and he should’ve known, he raised the boy after all. Phil just had been too afraid to lose another son. He wouldn’t do something as terrible as a public execution, especially not in the same manner that he’d lost a life of his own. 

But Quackity would.

The man had a sinister look as he smiled and asked Ranboo to come with him and Fundy, making Phil pause where he was about to leave- the hybrid in question stopped his conversation with the president to smile and nod, ever trusting of his ‘friends’.

When Quackity had loudly called out, “Now!” the half-enderman was pushed into one of the large walk-in aquarium tanks- the entrance promptly being shut- and an excruciating shriek ripped from said boy’s mouth as he desperately clawed at the water to try and escape the one thing that hurt him more than nearly anything. Phil was sure he had screamed too, eyes blown wide and throat burning s an arm reached out as if he could help from the distance.

The noises hurt to listen to, ringing in Phil’s head, and it was likely that the others heard it too, as Tubbo took a horrified step back before running away, the other two wincing and covering their ears.

Finally, Phil sprang into action, running to the tank as he noticed the boy was quite literally beginning to **melt** . He pushed the cruel men aside, not caring if they’d fallen off the wooden walkway above the lake, then began using his whole weight to bash his elbow against the glass confinement. When he finally shattered it enough to reach in and pull the melting, sobbing boy out he fell to the ground with the momentum, Ranboo falling on his chest as he held him close, frowning at his screams and cries of agony. The water flooding from the tank didn’t help much, making him slip fully to his back on the wooden walkway with an _‘oof’_

.

“It hurts so bad-“ He cried, clinging to Phil best he could whilst they were both soaked and he could feel his first life melt away.

“I know, I’m so sorry,” Phil murmured, ignoring the cold sludge that Ranboo was becoming as he slowly sat up and pet his hair. He could ignore the ringing in his head, he knew that it always hurt even more on the first life- even if he only had one here. So he’d ignore the head-splitting sounds to comfort the boy.

“Please,” Ranboo whimpered brokenly, cold tears only making it worse, “Please make it stop.”

Phil nearly froze up at the familiar words, staring down at him with wide eyes full of dread. He finally just held him closer, letting him hide his face in his shoulder oh so familiarly before shaking his head sadly, “I can’t. I’m sorry. I’m **so** sorry. It’ll stop soon. It’s almost over. I promise.”

He didn’t care that a crowd had formed at a distance, horrified and concerned, but not enough to willingly be in the range of the ear-piercing cries the hybrid made. Phil was sure he’d lose his hearing, but it somehow was intact still, tears welling in his eyes from the emotional and physical torment. But, he held them bad as to appear strong.

Eventually, the boy had melted into a puddle on his lap, slipping to the ground and disappearing as he respawned elsewhere. As he pulled himself to a stand he swept his gaze over the crowd with a look that said very clearly, ‘You could’ve helped him.’ He saw a few people shiver from the protective rage burning in his eyes.

Phil gave a nasty glare specifically towards Quackity and especially Fundy, snarling as the soaked fox hybrid tried to explain, “Don’t. I don’t want to hear a damn thing you have to say. You’re both monsters. I meant it when I said you were dead to me.” he spat. With that he turned and ran before anyone registered that they should catch him, being a runaway and all that.

He ran until he reached Ranboo’s home, throwing open the door without bothering to knock to see the boy sobbing and grabbing at himself, looking around to check he wasn’t still melting into a painful puddle of nothing. The tear tracts already were burning his cheeks, and it only made him shake and sob harder.

Speaking softly, he quickly came to his side, “Hey, hey, I know it still hurts-“ he was interrupted by his own gasp as the ender-hybrid lunged at him in a hug, sobbing into his shoulder again, cheeks burning from his own tears. “I’m so sorry I didn’t stop them. If I’d known-“ he stopped before he went spiraling back into the madness he felt when his second eldest had died, “I’m sorry. I’m going to take you to safety, okay? I’m sure Techno will let you stay with us.”

The boy barely registered what Phil said, nodding weakly between sobs as he trembled. “Please-“ he whimpered, “ _Please_ don’t let them hurt me.”

Phil’s heart broke once again as the boy looked up at him with red and green eyes glossed over with tears, the fear and excruciating pain in them obvious as he sunk into Phil’s comforting arms.

“I would never. I would never willingly let anyone hurt you. I promise.” And he took the vow seriously, cupping his face and wiping his tears away before setting him on the bed and looking through the chests after pulling a blanket over him. “Is there anything I should bring with us? Or are you okay with losing any of this stuff?” He would destroy this damn place. They deserved to lose everything they’ve ever loved. How will they like it? They deserved it. At least, that’s what his parental rage told him, and he believed it fully, vowing to keep his word and blow L’Manburg to bits.

Ranboo wobbled in place a bit, looking around as he urged himself to stop crying. “Th… The- well, yes, but my cats-“ he hiccuped, wiping his eyes with a wince before resigning to sit back down and curl up in the blanket.

“Of course,” Phil smiled, taking two leads so he could bring Jjjjjjjjeffery and Enderchest with them, carefully attaching them by the collars before offering his hand to the still shaking boy, abandoning the shabby white blanket. “Do you have any heavy coats? It’s cold out there.”

Ranboo opened his mouth to disagree, then realized he meant in the arctic. “Oh- no, no... I don’t.” He looked away, sucking in a shuddering breath and wondering why he never bought one. Then, Phil swiftly draped his woolen cloak over him, the fur tickling his neck as the older secured it and wrapped a supporting arm around his upper back, lightly squeezing his shoulder.

“Okay, let’s get going, mate.” Phil smiled, unbothered by being in just his black turtleneck as he was used to the cold from years of experience. He’d rather reduce the poor hybrid’s shivers best he could.

  
  


Maybe he’d been far too distracted by the rush or even the cold, but Ranboo didn’t cry again until much later, once they’d settled in at Technos home and discussed building a shack for Ranboo to stay in for however long- forever (hopefully)- if he wanted to. 

So when he did cry again it was much happier, being a bit overwhelmed by everything but being so undeniably grateful and welcomed by the two that he just broke down into trembling sobs, letting Phil move closer to let him lean on him and even hugging back as the fatherly figure rubbed his back and let him cry for as long as he needed, not minding that the tears soaked into his shirt instead of burning the boy’s cheeks.

Techno, of course, excused himself, not handling this type of situation well but not wanting to step on it to smother it as he understood it was just something the boy needed right now.

When he returned the boy was asleep, painfully dried tear still remaining on the edge of his eyes, but an exhausted smile making it clear things went well. “Tea?” He asked simply, holding up a kettle he’d just brewed before sitting on the other side of Phil and pouring a cup for the both of them when the blonde nodded.

  
  


Phil has heard heart-wrenching cries before. 

But he’s also heard thank yous (a bit more often than he’d like to admit from the same boy).

**Author's Note:**

> There it is! Hope you don't feel too sad... here's some tissues and water! :)  
> Feel free to let me know what you think in the comments! You can also see updates and such for when I post on my twitter, _Pastel_Micah_   
> <3


End file.
